


like a kiss which falls

by quillsand



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Attacks, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Referenced depression, and grantaire's self esteem issues, depressed character, enjolras loves cuddling, just a lot of fluff, seriously so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8439196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillsand/pseuds/quillsand
Summary: "Are you okay?" Enjolras asks then, and Grantaire thinks it's a shame, a real shame, that he doesn't have the energy to roll his eyes right now, because really, Enjolras? Does he look fucking okay? "Talk to me, R."_____Grantaire has an anxiety attack and Enjolras does his best to help. (ft. Grantaire's shitty self-esteem, Enjolras' obsession with forehead kisses, not-quite-secrets, and copious amounts of cuddling)





	

**Author's Note:**

> ok first of all this is my first les mis fic (i'm relatively new to this fandom, hi!) and i'm super nervous about posting it !! i'd appreciate any feedback anyone would be willing to leave !! 
> 
> tw for anxiety attacks and mentions of depression (see notes at the bottom for descriptions)
> 
> enjoy !!

Grantaire is sat on the edge of the bed, attempting to locate his jeans as quietly as he possibly can in the dark, chaotic mess that is Enjolras' room. 

He's had enough anxiety attacks by now to recognise how they start- increased heart rate, shaking hands, the overwhelming feeling he's being crushed, etc. 

That itself isn't the problem.

No, the problem itself lies with the fact that he's in Enjolras' room, in Enjolras' _bed_ , and Enjolras is fast asleep next to him.

Grantaire really can't be around Enjolras when he's about to have an anxiety attack. 

Grantaire can't wake Enjolras up just because his brain has decided that, hey, now would be a great time to make him overthink every second of the last few hours and work himself to an inevitable state of panic.

No, he can't let Enjolras see him like this, because then Enjolras would know just how fucked up Grantaire is and then he would leave and then-

A noise from beside him makes Grantaire's head turn so sharply his neck cricks.

"Where're you going?" Enjolras mumbles, half into his pillow. The sight does funny things to Grantaire's heart.

Grantaire must take a long time to respond because the next thing he registers is his boyfriend's arms wrapping around his waist in a loose grip, a soft "R?" whispered tentatively from warm lips that have somehow found their way to Grantaire's neck. 

It takes a while for Grantaire to realise that Enjolras is now sat behind him, his head resting on Grantaire's shoulder. 

And okay, this isn't good, this isn't good at all, Enjolras must be able to feel how badly Grantaire's shaking, must be able to hear how loud his heartbeat has become, how fast he's breathing. 

"R?" Enjolras whispers for the second time, and, now- now he sounds worried. 

Grantaire's still shaking but he manages to find his voice from somewhere, manages to give a brief, "I'm fine." in the hopes that it'll suddenly become true.

(It doesn't.)

"Sorry for waking you." Grantaire gets out after a while, sucking in a large breath of air. 

"It's okay," Enjolras' voice is soft, full of understanding, which is much, much more than anything Grantaire deserves. "You don't have to apologise." 

Enjolras must feel him tense up; his arms tighten their grip as he presses his face further against the soft skin of Grantaire's neck.

"Are you okay?" Enjolras asks then, and Grantaire thinks it's a shame, a real shame, that he doesn't have the energy to roll his eyes right now, because really, Enjolras? Does he look fucking okay? "Talk to me, R."

"I'm... I'm, fuck- I..." he attempts, feeling even more pathetic. "I'm really fucking sorry, just- just give me... Give me a few minutes, okay?"

He feels the movement as Enjolras nods. "Do I make this better or worse?" he asks cautiously.

Too occupied to work in riddles, Grantaire simply makes a questioning sound in response.

"Would it be better for you if I left?" he re-phrases. Grantaire dimly registers how much quieter his voice has gotten.

A few minutes ago, Grantaire would have given anything to be alone whilst he worked through this, but he has enough semblance of mind to realise that Enjolras leaving him right now would not do happy things to his brain. 

"Stay." 

In response, Enjolras pulls Grantaire closer to his chest, lips pressing gently against a spot on Grantaire's shoulder.

Grantaire allows his own head to fall forward, squeezing his eyes shut. He tries to imagine Joly's voice in his head, _"Find a rhythm, R, and stick to it."_

So he does. In for three, hold for four, out for five. 

In for three, hold for four, out for five. 

He focuses on counting and breathing, and not on the way Enjolras' hands are warm on his stomach, or the way his breath is hot on Grantaire's neck, or the blond curls that tickle his chin-

And then he loses the rhythmn, his mind choosing instead to focus on Enjolras- how he's practically watching Grantaire fall apart, silently judging him for his lack of control.

After all, what kind of idiot freaks out at something as simple as sex? Grantaire's had sex before- Grantaire's had lots of sex before, so, logically, it shouldn't be an issue, only it was, because this was sex with Enjolras, and Grantaire hadn't wanted to fuck it up and-

_Breathe._

In for three, hold for four, out for-

Grantaire doesn't deserve someone like Enjolras. He's too pathetic, too needy, too... him. And Enjolras is... Enjolras is everything and he's too good for Grantaire and eventually he's going to realise that and then where will Grantaire be? Grantaire, who can't even have sex with his boyfriend without messing it up somehow.

Not the sex itself- the sex had been great (Grantaire's good at sex, of course it had been great), but this- this freaking out over nothing, because that's what he does, isn't it? Grantaire freaks out over nothing and Enjolras really, really should not have to deal with that, should not have to deal with Grantaire when he's freaking out over nothing because that doesn't even make sense, and oh my god, Enjolras really does deserve better, doesn't he? He deserves someone who won't freak out on him after perfectly good sex, because that's what Grantaire's doing, isn't it? And Enjolras really, really, really shouldn't have to deal with this, probably doesn't even want to deal with this, he's probably only staying with Grantaire to be nice, because that's who he is, he's so _nice_ and caring and full of belief and Grantaire's just... cynical and depressed and-

"Hey." Enjolras' voice breaks Grantaire's whirlpool of thought; Grantaire dimly realises he's breathing much too fast, taking in huge lungfuls of air, so much that he feels like he'll choke.

"Hey," Enjolras says again, taking Grantaire's hand in his own, "Grantaire? R? Can you look at me?"

And Grantaire probably could- he'll just have to turn a little- but no. The thought of being the full focus of Enjolras' intense gaze is too much for Grantaire to handle right now.

He's shaking his head vehemently, and wow, Grantaire really is a fuck up, he can't even look his boyfriend in the eyes for fuck's sake.

"That's okay, that's fine." Enjolras says soothingly and Grantaire has to force back a sob- he _will not_ cry right now, he _won't._

Enjolras squeezes Grantaire's hand in his own, a barely there pressure that brings his mind back into focus, grounding him.

"Breathe with me, R." Enjolras says at the same time he squeezes Grantaire's hand. Grantaire gets the idea pretty quickly- he's not an amateur, after all, Joly and Bossuet must have done this sort of thing for him a million times by now.

Enjolras' palm is soft in his, and Grantaire tries to focus on that as he draws in a breath to match the increase of pressure on his hand. When Enjolras relaxes his grip after a few seconds, Grantaire's breath falls out in a rush. Enjolras squeezes his hand again and Grantaire forces himself to slow down, eventually, managing to stick to the the pace Enjolras sets.

For a while the only thing that exists is their clasped hands as Grantaire's breath comes out in uneven, but increasingly steadying bursts.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

"Thanks." Grantaire says once he's regained the power of speech. His voice cracks, but only barely, so he counts it as a win.

"No problem." 

They lapse into a slightly taut silence, Enjolras' thumb rubbing against the back of Grantaire's hand as Grantaire fights to unmuddle the thoughts that have become tangled in his head. He feels heavy, like he's just finished a sparring match with Bahorel, his limbs strange and foreign where they connect to his body.

It takes roughly two minutes before Grantaire decides he can't stand the silence any longer.

"How did you... With that, How did you know what to do?" he asks after a moment's hesitation. If Enjolras is surprised by the question, he doesn't show it.

"I've been friends with Courf through three exam seasons now." he says, "I'm familiar with the signs."

And yeah, Grantaire could kick himself for not realising that _of course_ Enjolras would know what to do during an anxiety attack when one of his best friend's suffers from the very same thing Grantaire does.

"Oh." he says in acknowledgement. Then, after a pause: "Sorry."

This time when Enjolras' lips find their mark, it's his cheek. "Don't apologise." At any other time, that would probably sound like a reprimand, but not here, not now. "Do you need anything? Water?"

Grantaire's first instinct is to decline- he doesn't want Enjolras doing more for him than he already has- but he's also _thirsty_ dammit. 

(Besides, if he were at home, Joly would probably insist he drink something after an attack- something about it being good medicinal practices, Grantaire's not sure, he never really listens apart from to do what Joly tells him. The man is a doctor, after all. 

Well, doctor in training, but the point still stands.)

Enjolras is still waiting for an answer, Grantaire realises dimly, so he replies with a rather weak sounding, "Yeah... Uh, water would be good actually."

Enjolras nods his assent and Grantaire feels the bed shift slightly as he gets up to leave. Once he's out of the room, Grantaire sucks in a shaky breath and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

He's fine. He's calm. Enjolras isn't leaving, he's just in the other room. Grantaire is fine.

_Yeah, right._

When Enjolras walks back into the room after what feels simultaneously like a few seconds and an eternity to Grantaire, he tries his best to look up and meet Enjolras' eyes. He doesn't quite manage it- his gaze ends up fixed somewhere around the sharp line of Enjolras' jaw, but still. There was an effort.

Grantaire takes the glass when it's offered to him, the cold surface against his skin making him feel more alert. 

He tries to ignore the concern in Enjolras' eyes where they stare at him as he sips obediently. 

"Thanks." he says when he's finished, and thank God his voice sounds stronger now. Mainly to put off having to face Enjolras for as long as possible, he makes a fuss about clearing the bedside table, laying the half-finished glass there with a gentle 'thud'.

"Better?" Enjolras asks with far too much caution in his tone for Grantaire's liking.

"Yeah, thanks." Grantaire says, rolling his shoulders to try and relieve some of the tension that's gathered there.

They're still sat a distance apart, and to Grantaire that just seems so _wrong_ \- yet he finds himself incapable of doing anything about it. 

Now that he's calmed down (well, sort of), it's easier to see that his panic was completely irrational. He tries to work through it- ignoring the voice in his head that sounds all too much like Joly telling him it's too soon afterwards for him to be analysing what led him there.

In all fairness, it hadn't started out as an anxiety attack. Grantaire had simply woken up next to his boyfriend, and everything had been fine. More than fine, really, if he's telling the truth. 

Waking up to Enjolras isn't a new thing for Grantaire, but waking up to a mostly naked Enjolras after they'd had sex- that's a new thing entirely. 

So no, Grantaire hadn't woken up to feelings of regret and shame and despair. Grantaire had woken up happy and exhilarated, and so sickeningly _in love_ that he's pretty sure he could've been a character in a Nicholas Sparks novel. 

Which... is half the problem, isn't it? Grantaire loves Enjolras, has done for longer than he cares to admit, and this- this is big. This is their first time having sex and fuck if that doesn't scare Grantaire all the way to hell and back.

They've been building up to it for a while, but they've never actually gotten to the act itself. They've talked about it (fuck, of course they have, this is _Enjolras_ ) but last night was their first time actually _doing_ it.

And Grantaire's not stupid, he's well aware that it had been Enjolras' first time with anyone (he's also well aware that virginity is a social construct, which is why he specifically didn't use the word- take that, Enjolras.)

And maybe Enjolras doesn't think that's a big thing, but for Grantaire... For Grantaire, that's a really big thing. That's Enjolras trusting him and putting his faith in Grantaire and Grantaire's not sure he is a suitable receptacle for Enjolras' faith because fuck it, Grantaire doesn't _have_ any faith, and he really, really, really does not want to fuck this relationship up.

What he _does_ want is to forget about everything that just happened, save it for him to freak out about later, and cuddle back up against his boyfriend until they both fall asleep.

Said boyfriend, it appears, has other ideas.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Enjolras asks after Grantaire's considerable silence, because of course he does. Of course. 

He's hesitant though, obviously not wanting to push too far, and- no. Grantaire hates that. Grantaire will not have Enjolras walking on egg shells for him. (If only because Enjolras' feet are way too nice to be covered in egg yolk, and- eww, that's a disgusting image, and really not something Grantaire takes pleasure out of imagining.)

"I really, really don't." Grantaire answers honestly, watching the frown on Enjolras' face deepen.

"Okay," he says slowly, with the air of someone who's choosing every word carefully, "But I want to let you know that if there's something that's making you unhappy- if it's me, or- or something I've done, or- anything, don't feel you have to hide it, or-"

"Enjolras." Grantaire interrupts, warning.

"Grantaire-"

"No." Grantaire stops him before he can continue, "I meant it when I said I didn't want to talk about it, okay? Look, I know you like talking and communication- and that's great, really, I'm not saying it isn't- just... I can't right now. I _can_ promise it's nothing to do with you, or anything you did, or anything _we_ did, for that matter- it's just me and my stupid brain and, fuck, I really can't have this conversation right now, Enjolras."

Enjolras, for his part, stays silent throughout Grantaire's rambling, and he makes no further effort to get Grantaire to talk, however unsatisfied he looks with the explanation.

"We can talk about it tomorrow, okay? In the morning. Please." 

Compromise and communication are an essential part of a healthy relationship. Or so he's told. 

"In the morning." Enjolras agrees, his mouth set. There's no escaping it now; once Enjolras has his mind fixed on something, there's never any escape. 

At least he's stopped looking at Grantaire like he's a bomb about to go off.

"May I kiss you?" Enjolras asks then, actually _asks_ , and fuck, does he think he has to ask now? He may not be looking at Grantaire as if he'll explode at the slightest touch but he's sure as hell treating him like it. 

Fighting exasperation and feeling the overwhelming urge to prove he's not one of the high-maintenance, fragile, in-need-of-constant-care plants that Jehan keeps on their wondowsill, Grantaire leans forward to press his lips against Enjolras'- firm and insistent to assure him that, no, Grantaire is not going to break at the briefest hint at intimacy.

He's not completely sure if he gets his point across but if the residual smile that remains on Enjolras' face when Grantaire leans back is any indication- then probably.

Grantaire must have watched too many of Courfeyrac's disgustingly sappy rom-coms (and fuck it all if Grantaire isn't a giant sap at heart anyway) because he chooses that moment to whisper three words against Enjolras' lips.

"I love you."

It's not the first time Grantaire has said it, but Enjolras beams like it's the first time he's heard it. 

(Enjolras hasn't said it back yet. And honestly, that fact really doesn't bother Grantaire as much as he'd expected it to. If anything, it just proves how much respect Enjolras has for him; he'd never lie about things like love to Grantaire. And this way, when Enjolras _does_ say it- Grantaire won't be able to doubt that he's telling the truth.

Well, he'll probably try, of course he will, that's what his brain _does_ \- but he won't be able to. 

It's a sobering thought.)

Still smiling as if Grantaire had just announced that he'd single-handedly liberated France, Enjolras leans forward to press his lips against Grantaire's forehead. 

Grantaire has to fight the urge to giggle like a fucking toddler right then, if only because his boyfriend is completely and utterly ridiculous. He and Enjolras have been dating for almost three months now, and during those three months Grantaire's learnt that Enjolras has a thing for laying casual, affectionate kisses to his skin with frequency.

It's become such a natural part of Grantaire's life that he's started to differentiate between the kisses. It's a kiss to his cheek when they're in a public setting and Enjolras is perhaps too busy to give Grantaire a proper hello. A kiss to his forehead when they're somewhere around the rest of les amis, where the atmosphere is more comfortable- even if they are mocked for being, in Courfeyrac's eyes, 'worse than Marius'.

The small, casual displays of intimacy mean more to Grantaire than he'll ever be able to tell Enjolras.

(Not that Enjolras needs telling, Grantaire's sure. In fact, it's probably half the reason he does it in the first place.) 

Neck kisses are reserved for when they're alone and Enjolras has the tendency to turn into some sort of vampire. (Really, Grantaire's got the marks to prove it.)

He thinks back to last night when Enjolras had kissed his way across Grantaire's exposed collarbones and down his chest like he was committing the flesh to memory- which he very well could have been, at this point nothing would surprise Grantaire. 

Enjolras' smile is still soft when Grantaire looks up to meet his eyes. "Think we can try sleeping again now?" he asks.

 _Fucking finally,_ Grantaire thinks.

"Bagsy little spoon." he says instead. The gleam in Enjolras' eyes tells Grantaire he wouldn't have it any other way. 

"Budge up, then." 

Once they're in a comfortable position, Grantaire's back pressed against Enjolras' bare chest and their hands intertwined where they rest on Grantaire's stomach, Grantaire smiles and closes his eyes, content.

It would be all too easy to simply fall asleep right then and there.

Which is perhaps why Grantaire doesn't.

Allowing himself to be vulnerable isn't something that happens very often (certainly not in front of Enjolras) and it's not a bad thing- Grantaire will be the first to admit that he needs to spend more time with his guard down- but it is... strange. 

He feels restless in Enjolras' arms, hovering somewhere between calm and distressed, and maybe, maybe if he tried hard enough he'd be able to drop off to sleep. 

After ten minutes of resolutely keeping his eyes shut and forcing his mind to count sheep, Grantaire sighs. 

"Hey," Enjolras whispers, and yep, he's still awake, so at least Grantaire doesn't have to feel guilty for waking him up. "You alright?"

"I'm good," Grantaire assures him, "Really good. Just- busy mind, y'know?" 

Enjolras hums, "Want to talk?" 

"Enjolras, I said-"

"No, I mean. Talk. Just talking, not about anything just..."

"Pillowtalk?" Grantaire supplies.

He hears Enjolras suppress a chuckle. "I suppose."

Pillowtalk Grantaire can get behind. Grantaire considers himself an expert at pillowtalk.

"Okay then... Tell me something I don't know about you?" he suggests.

Enjolras seems stunted for about a second. "Something you don't know about me?"

"That's what I said, yeah. Although if you need something easier we could always talk about the current political situation in Europ-"

"No." 

"Alright, alright," Grantaire chuckles- Enjolras has strict rules for their relationship, and one of them is that politics be kept far, far, far away from the bedroom. "Better get thinking then."

And he does. Grantaire feels Enjolras' chin rest on his head as Enjolras hums in thought. 

"Okay," he says after a considerable amount of time, "Something you don't know: when I was little- up until I was around... Fifteen, maybe? When I was younger, anyway- I used to have a stutter." 

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Surprised?"

"A little." Grantaire admits. "You're just so... Well, you know."

"Five years of speech therapy." Enjolras gives in lieu of an answer.

"Wow," Grantaire searches for something adequate to reply to that. "Five years? That's, uh..." _a fucking long time,_ he doesn't say.

"The parents insisted. Something about it being a cry for attention." 

Grantaire doesn't know much about Enjolras' family but from what he's gathered they're not exactly that close. He knows they keep in touch by way of monthly phone calls because of the way Enjolras always looks drained when he's finished talking with them.

"That's bullshit." Grantaire says, because he's always been good at being blunt. It's sort of his forte.

Enjolras responds by placing a kiss to the top of Grantaire's head. "Yeah."

"It does make a lot of sense, though." Grantaire says, thinking on it.

He can sense the expression on Enjolras' face, and sure enough, when he turns his head, there are two perfectly arched eyebrows across his boyfriend's forehead. 

"You enunciate things so clearly- at first I thought it was just because you, I don't know, I thought you practised in front of a mirror or something," he admits. "But if you spent five years in speech therapy, then I guess that explains it."

"Mmm," Enjolras not-quite agrees, "I suppose it does. Although I do practise in front of a mirror on occasion."

Grantaire laughs at that. 

At the start of their friendship, he'd found it a surprise to discover that Enjolras actually possessed a sense of humour. It's a lot more discreet than other people's, but it's there. Grantaire likes to think that he's become adept at spotting Enjolras' wry remarks and witty comments.

"It reappears sometimes, when I'm nervous or angry." Enjolras says, quieter. "The stutter."

"Really?" Grantaire asks for the second time that night, surprised. He and Enjolras used to argue a lot, and he's never noticed. He tells Enjolras as much.

"It's not that noticeable. Combeferre can usually spot when it happens. Courfeyrac, too. It's how they know when I need cheering up."

"So it's a 'you-can-only-see-it-if-you're-looking-for-it' sort of thing?" Grantaire asks and wonders if Enjolras is following the same line of thought as he is.

"It appears so."

Grantaire nods, storing the information away for further use. He tries not to let his heart swell up too much from the joy Enjolras confiding in him brings. 

"Your turn." Enjolras says then, and it takes a moment for Grantaire to realise what he's talking about.

_'Tell me something I don't know about you.'_

"Um," he says eloquently, "What do you want to know?"

Grantaire can _feel_ Enjolras frown, "That's not how it works."

"Says who?" Grantaire challenges because no, he is not afraid to push his luck.

"Me."

"And who made you the democratic leader of pillowtalk?" he says. He's not sure what winds Enjolras up more at this point- any reference to monarchy or Grantaire's deliberate avoidance of it. It's an ongoing experiment he takes great joy in testing out at any possible opportunity. 

"Gran _taire._ " Enjolras says, stressing the last syllable like he does when he's caught between exasperation and amusement. It's one of Grantaire's favourite sounds.

"Aww, c'mon, don't get all grumpy on me now." Grantaire teases. It's a testament to how far they've come that Enjolras only huffs in response.

Grantaire tries to come up with something he could possibly tell Enjolras that a) he doesn't already know and b) isn't going to send him running.

He quickly vetos anything to do with family- he's never said anything but he's pretty sure Enjolras knows that his mum and dad won't be winning any awards for best parenting any time soon.

He thinks about their friends next, but they're not exactly a secretive bunch; Enjolras will most likely already know anything Grantaire could tell him on that front.

And that doesn't exactly leave Grantaire with many options now, does it?

Pushing aside thoughts of how boring that surely makes him so he can dwell on it later, he sighs and relaxes further against Enjolras' chest.

"I used to do dance." he says quietly, unsure what prompted him to divulge this particular piece of information.

It doesn't feel like much compared to what Enjolras had told him, but it perks Enjolras' interest nonetheless. "What type of dance?" 

"Ballet, mainly. A little bit of tap but I was never much good at it."

Enjolras is quiet for a second. "I didn't know that." is all he says.

Grantaire laughs. "Yeah, that's sort of the point of the game, Enj."

"Why did you stop?"

Grantaire really should've seen that one coming.

"Just... stuff." he answers, aiming for casual. Maybe, by some small miracle, Enjolras will take the hint and drop it.

"Depression related stuff?" Enjolras says hesitantly and Grantaire has to suppress the urge to ram his head into a wall. Enjolras has the least tact of anyone he's ever met, ever.

"Yeah." he replies simply instead.

"Oh." Enjolras says, and for a minute Grantaire thinks that's it. "That sucks."

Grantaire shrugs (or, as best as he can shrug whilst Enjolras is still resting his head on Grantaire's shoulder), "It's not a big deal. I mean, I was never going to accomplish anything with it so no losses, right?"

Enjolras makes a noise like he very much disagrees and Grantaire takes a moment to admire his obvious restraint on the matter. "Do you miss it?" he asks eventually.

"Sometimes." Grantaire admits.

"Well," says Enjolras, like he's preparing for something, "You'll just have to show me sometime."

Grantaire feels a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I could, yeah. If you want."

"I do." Enjolras punctuates his words with another kiss to Grantaire's temple and Grantaire dimly registers that he'd probably find it annoying if he didn't thoroughly enjoy how affectionate his boyfriend could be. 

Turning so that they're face to face, Grantaire sees the smile form in Enjolras' eyes before it appears on his face. Grantaire leans forward to press their lips together, because really, he can't not when Enjolras is looking at him like that, it would be blasphemous.

They'll have to talk in the morning. Grantaire knows that Enjolras will want to know what caused him to have an anxiety attack, and that's going to bring a discussion about his self-worth that Grantaire would really rather not have. But he's working on it. 

Enjolras already knows the basics- he knows about Grantaire's depression and parts of his past- but not all of it. 

Tomorrow, Grantaire will tell him. For now, he feels perfectly content just as he is.

"I think I can sleep now." he whispers onto the other man's lips.

"You're sure?" 

Grantaire hums in response, laying his head back against the pillow. Enjolras takes Grantaire's hand in his own, bringing it to his lips. "Goodnight then, R."

"Goodnight, Enj."

This time, sleep comes easily to Grantaire.

**Author's Note:**

> (tw descriptions: basically grantaire works himself up because he's scared of messing up their relationship, this leads to him feeling like he's not good enough for enj, and he has an anxiety attack which enjolras helps him through. it's not too detailed but grantaire does suffer some pretty bad thoughts (which he later realises aren't true) if that's something you'd find upsetting to read. his depression is mentioned a few times (he says he gave up dance because of it) but that's about it. i think that covers everything, but if you think there's something else i should have mentioned pls let me know !!)
> 
> i tried my best with characterisations and their relationship dynamic is one i find really interesting to write, so i'd love to hear your thoughts !! any and all comments are encouraged and would be greatly appreciated !!
> 
> thanks for reading !!!
> 
> (slightly pretentious title is from pablo neruda's 'and because love battles' bc who doesn't love a bit of neruda amirite)


End file.
